


The Sailor Boy

by bookworm03



Series: The Sailor Boy Universe [1]
Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War II, F/M, Nurses & Nursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 01:07:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7597366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookworm03/pseuds/bookworm03
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was always quiet between four and six in the morning. Title taken from the poem by Tennyson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [c00kie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/c00kie/gifts).



> Thank you so so much for reading The Monster. I hope you enjoy it ! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are lovely and amazing and I am so grateful for every single one so thank you in advance. <3

It was always quiet between four and six in the morning.

Well, 0400 and 0600 hours, if she was using proper military terms, which she should probably do since, well, she was technically in a _branch_ of the military. Women were playing a significant part in the war effort and Leslie wanted to do the same.

As it turned out, the best way for her to do that was to leave Indiana - leave _America_ \- for the first time in her entire life. She always saw herself as more of a mechanic or working in a factory, flexing her muscles like the girls on the posters, smeared with grease and smiling widely. But they needed nurses, desperately, and there was no fighting happening where she lived.

At least she’d had Ann Perkins to go with her.

Ann Perkins was, of course, the most amazing nurse to ever grace the streets of London. At the end of their first month one of the doctors had pulled her behind a curtain where a man was screaming and Ann had emerged, looking proud of herself and wiping her hands on a cloth.

She wouldn’t tell Leslie what she’d done or seen, but Leslie was fairly certain she resuscitated a human heart in her bare hands. Ann was always being pulled into traumas after that.

Leslie dreaded that part of the job. She didn’t want to be asked to hold someone down because they didn’t have enough morphine to spare, or were too short on antibiotics to kill an infection. She wanted to make people feel better and they never seemed to have enough resources to make that happen. It was the worst part of her job. It was the worst part of the war. They couldn’t even take care of these soldiers when they finally returned - alive - from the front.

Which was why she preferred to be here, in the recovery wing, bringing ice chips, changing bandages, and making sure everyone was eating enough. She wanted to hear stories and hold their hands and reassure them that everything was fine now, they were safe now. She wanted to help them write letters to their mothers and sweethearts when they were too weak to hold the pen themselves.

Now, she dilly-dallied through the courtyard as her charges slept, examining flowers and wondering what the gardens looked like in Pawnee this time of year. It would be night there, her mother would be sound asleep in their home, really alone for the first time in so long. She’d be missing Leslie and Robert, both of whom were across the Atlantic while she did her best to fill in the gaps. She’d be throwing herself into her work.

Leslie was touching the petals of a bright pink tulip, imagining Ramsett Park, when footsteps startled her back to reality.

A man in a Navy uniform, white hat tucked under his arm, was staring at her from across the courtyard. Leslie’s cheeks went red and she stood up carefully and smoothed out her skirt. His gaze was sharp and focused, even from so many yards away.

“Good morning, miss - ”

“You’re not injured!” She practically shrieked at the man as he strolled through the courtyard. For a military man, his hair was not cropped as closely to his skull as it should be and it kept sprouting out of his head at weird angles. His forearms flexed through his jacket as he crossed them in front of his body.

“No. I’m on leave for the next two days and I’m convalescing here before I go back to the coast.”

“Oh.” Leslie tugged on her own uniform and squared her shoulders as the sailor came closer. His eyes were a rich, warm brown and his mouth was set in a straight line, but the corners were curved up just a touch.  His jaw was sharp and as smooth as a baby’s bottom. The one thing they did always have in the hospital were sharp razors and shaving cream.

“I’m Nurse Knope.”

“Nurse Knope,” he rolled the words over his tongue like he was testing them out. “That is quite the mouthful.”

“You’re American.”

“Yes, miss” he tipped his hat politely, but his eyes glinted. “So are you.”

“Indiana.”

“Minnesota” he unfolded his arms. “Chief Petty Officer Wyatt.”

“And _Nurse Knope_ is quite a mouthful?”

His lips twitched.

“CPO Wyatt.”

Leslie crinkled her nose and he grinned and shrugged.

“Ben.”

“Nice to meet you, Ben.”

“Are you going to tell me your name?” 

“I just did,” Leslie turned on her heel as Sister Francis shouted at her to come change some dressings.

Leslie sighed and Chief Petty Officer Wyatt appeared amused.

“Are you going to the dance tomorrow, Nurse Knope?”

Leslie ran off, calling _maybe_ over her shoulder for a reason she wouldn’t quite understand.

*****

“Was Sam all over you again, Les?” Leslie linked arms with Margot as they strolled down the block to their _flat_.

It all sounded very _posh,_ but according to Margot they were in the cheapest part of the city where there was barely any infrastructure or things to do in general. And their very posh flat only had one bedroom that was separated from the living room by a curtain. And she’d been squishing onto a tiny mattress with Ann every night for the last eight months. Margot slept on the cot next to them and Donna and Louise slept on other cots in the living room. It was a tad cramped, to say the least.

At least they were on the 3rd floor and hadn’t encountered any vermin yet.

“What should we have for tea?” Margot’s sensible Mary Janes clicked on the city sidewalk, her long blond ponytail swishing down her back. It was fairly crowded, people bustling through the streets trying to get home as quickly as possible. There wasn’t much choice for tea these days so Leslie imagined they would end up with baked beans on toast again. And tea, of course.

Margot laughed lightly when she said as much and steered Leslie into the nearest shop.

“Is Ann working late?”

“Yes,” Leslie answered. “She’ll walk home with Sister Francis.”

“Ugh,” Margot groaned. “That poor dear, always getting dragged around by that old crone…” she trailed off with a soft gasp as the bell of the store dinged and they came face to face with a man in Army fatigues. Margot’s eyes widened and then relaxed, moisture filling them.

The soldier tipped his hat with a little smile and went on his way.

“I thought it was Jim,” she squeaked, fingers clutching painfully against Leslie’s arm. Leslie patted her elbow gently. She thought every soldier with sandy hair was Jim. She was seeing Jim in her sleep.

He’d been reported missing in action six weeks earlier and Margot seemed convinced he would find a way to come home to her above anything else.

Leslie’s heart ached just a little when she considered what could’ve (probably) really happened to Jim. They’d been planning on getting married when the war broke out and eloped the night before he left. She had no ring, there was a single photo of the two of them from the wedding that she kept pressed to her body at all times and the simple, silver necklace he’d given her that she’d never taken off.

Leslie wanted to reassure her, but it seemed in bad taste to do so when they both knew what it was really like out there. Instead, she just guided Margot to the back of the store.

“Anyway,” Margot blinked quickly and turned with a watery smile. “You didn’t answer me, was Sam pawing at you again?”

Sam was a soldier from Brooklyn who’d had an amputation below the knee when he first arrived and been too unstable to move for months now. He was in no immediate danger, thankfully, he just couldn’t go anywhere. Every time Leslie walked into his room he called her _dollface_ and tried to brush his fingers along the side of her uniform.

One time Leslie had been checking him for bedsores and commenting about how frustrating it must be not to be able to move. Instead of appreciating her sympathy he’d replied with “Don’t worry, dollface, the important parts of me can still move” and gave her a little pat on the bottom.

But she’d held his hand when they’d taken his leg and he’d squeezed so hard in fear that he’d almost broken her fingers. She had a soft spot for him, which is why she humored him.

“Not really, he was asleep most of my shift.”

“He’s quite sweet, when he’s not grabbing your arse. You never know how these things turn out!”

Leslie laughed lightly, selecting a few items from the shelf and following Margot around the corner.

*****

The next morning, Leslie returned to the hospital with Ann who looked weary but kept smiling proudly to herself. They’d done an emergency amputation of a rotting foot the night before, but their patient was going to make it now.

“It was amazing, Les,” Ann linked arms with her. “I mean, recovery will be awful but he’s going to survive and I just...god, what a rush.”

Leslie beamed with pride at the most amazing nurse in the world as they strolled through the doors. She’d been best friends with Ann since they were thirteen, finding each other in the summer before eighth grade after Ann moved from Michigan with her family. By the end of the year, they were inseparable.

"Ann, you beautiful starfish, the world needs more people like you.”

Ann’s cheeks colored, but she smiled and as she led them down the corridor.

"Have you heard from your dad?”

“Not for a couple of weeks, but I have to call my mom tonight so maybe she’s got something. What did Chris say in his last…?”

Ann swallowed audibly.

“He’s staying positive. He’s Chris.”

Chris Traegar exploded positivity. The night Ann had met him they’d all been at a dance and he’d said to her that war was an unfortunate consequence of their situation, but a thing that needed doing. Ann had furrowed her brow in consternation and started to argue with him, and then by the end of the night they were joined at the lips in a dark corner.

“I’m so worried,” she admitted it like it needed admitting. Everyone was worried. “I just can’t help think about what could happen and it makes me sick to my stomach. I see these soldiers coming in and I picture his face and it’s…”

Leslie stopped walking to pull her friend into a tight hug. They clung to each other for a few seconds before parting ways, Leslie to the recovery wing and Ann to trauma. There was nothing to say.

Sam was sitting upright when she entered his room with water and ice chips.

“Theeeere’s my favorite nurse,” he cooed. “The keenest one in all of London”

Leslie crinkled her nose and bade him good morning. Sam grinned boyishly.

“What’s wrong, dollface? Can’t take a compliment. Hey…” he grabbed her wrist as she breezed passed him. “When I get sprung from here, I want you to go on a date with me. If you’d date an old cripple, that is.”

Leslie softened at that.

“Saaaaaam.”

“Okay, fine, we’ll get married if you want.”

She hit his arm lightly and he laughed and kissed the back of her hand.

“All I want is to wake up to those gorgeous blue eyes every morning, sweetheart.”

“You’re all talk,” she teased, moving the covers back over him and then smoothing them back down after she checked his dressings. “I’ll bring you breakfast in a few minutes. Rest your eyes.”

“I don’t want to rest my eyes. I want to talk to you.”

“Sam,” she narrowed her gaze. “I have other patients to check on. Get some rest.”

His dimples deepened as he winked at someone in the doorway.

“She would’ve made a good captain, right sailor?”

Leslie whirled around and found herself face to face with Chief Petty Officer Wyatt. Her mouth dropped and he inclined his head in her direction.

“Good morning, Nurse Knope.”

“Good morning,” she stammered, swatting at Sam’s hand when he gave her butt a little pat. Ben Wyatt lifted an eyebrow and Leslie cleared her throat.

“Did you need something?”

“Just directions, if you have a moment.”

Leslie plucked Sam’s hand away again and hurried out into the hall. Ben didn’t start talking right away, instead he took her further from Sam’s curtain until they were just outside a stairwell.

“What can I help you with?”

“I was going into town to get some breakfast. I wondered if you had any recommendations.”

“Cora’s has the _best_ waffles in all of London,” she exclaimed. “Do you like waffles? What am I saying, how could a person not like waffles.”

“Well, I trained in France for a while, so I did acquire a taste for crepes,” Leslie laughed loudly at the way he waggled his eyebrows and Ben almost smiled. “But I do like a good waffle.”

She set off giving him directions to Cora’s as someone else hollered _Sweetheart, come give me a kiss good morning_. Leslie crinkled her nose and Ben frowned.

“They don’t sound that injured.”

“This is the recovery wing, they’re getting ready to go home.”

“What about that GI?”

“Sam?” she shrugged. “He’s harmless. They’re worried about infection so they’re keeping him here.”

“He’s harmless so you let him paw at you?” 

Leslie’s lips twisted. “I suppose.”

“That doesn’t seem fair. I’m sure they wouldn’t like you pawing at them while they did their job.”

Leslie arched an eyebrow and Ben blushed. “I mean...okay, bad example. But you have really cute...paws…”

The words came out like they were painful to say and Leslie giggled and he apologized quickly.

“Your hands are not paws,” he clarified. “It just doesn’t seem fair.”

Ben Wyatt’s brown eyes flitted over her, and Leslie found herself fixating on the light scruff across his cheeks this morning. He smelled nice, contrasting with the aroma of sterility and infection that permeated the walls. His musk was pleasant, laced with the faintest traces of Old Spice. Something stirred inside Leslie and she found herself stepping a little closer.

“Anyway, um, I’m gonna go into town for the day, but thanks for the breakfast recommendation,” he bowed his head ever so slightly. “I’ll...maybe see you tonight?”

Leslie found herself nodding eagerly and her stomach definitely fluttered when Ben smiled crookedly in response.

“Coooool,” he reached out and tapped her chin. “Don’t let them paw at you - unless you like that sort of thing.”

Leslie thought she might pass out from the way his skin rubbed over her own, but as quick as the touch had appeared it was gone and so was Ben Wyatt.

_Wowzers_ . What was that about?

*****

The dance was held in a hall every Saturday night. The music varied - sometimes just a record player and other time an actual band - but the room was always buzzing. Buzzing with women working in the city, buzzing with soldiers on leave for a few days.

The lighting was dim and the party had already started, so it wasn’t long before Louise and Donna were making a beeline for a group of men hanging off to the side, asking somebody to dance with them. The wooden floors were chipped in a million places and the stage was small and cramped, the music and instruments just slightly out of tune. But it was fun, it was a place to be and forget about what was going on around them.

Leslie accepted a drink Ann brought and sat off to the side with her and Margot. Her eyes searched the room for Ben Wyatt so she could ask him about the waffles, but he was nowhere in sight. Leslie thought maybe he’d opted to rest up instead of coming out for the night. She had no idea when he was supposed to go back to sea, but she hoped she’d see him again at least once before he did.

Just...to ask about the waffles and wish him well.

“Does Jim dance?”

Leslie had asked Margot this before, but she loved the way her face lit up when she answered.

“He does for me,” she grinned slyly and Ann snickered. It wasn’t long before they were greeted by some rather attractive gentleman asking for a dance with the beautiful nurse.

Ann, of course, was who they meant.

Margot got scooped up next and Leslie smiled and waved her off, tapping her foot to the beat. She’d grown up loving music, any and all music, really, and she had her mother to thank for that. Her parents had met out dancing and apparently her father had said she was the only person he ever wanted to dance with from then on.

And she had been until Leslie turned three and he let her stand on his feet and sway to Benny Goodman.

Leslie swallowed the lump in her throat. She wondered where he might be now. In France, somewhere, leading his regiment.

She missed him, but he was the real reason she wanted to help out. He was the reason her mother went to work every day trying to keep the town afloat as best she could so he had something to return home to. 

“Hey beautiful, come dance with me.”

Leslie glanced up at a tall - very tall - curly haired blonde with big blue eyes and pouty lips. He winked at her and held out his hand, but Leslie waved him off. He was cute enough, but she wasn’t in the mood.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“You look like you want to dance.”

“I’m really fine, thank you,” the lump was still in her throat and she was afraid the music might cause the tears to flow.

“You don’t like dancing? What’s your problem?”

Leslie’s eyes narrowed, the lump was instantly replaced with burning indignation. “I love dancing, I just don’t want to dance with _you_ , sir. Now if you’ll excuuuuuse me...” she brushed passed him to get a soda, but the man latched onto her wrist.  

“You should dance with me,” he eyes raked over her and Leslie shuddered. She started to pull away and the guy yanked her back again. Leslie frowned and pried her arm loose.

“I said no thank you!” She snapped as a strong arm slid around her waist.

“Hey, honey,” lips grazed her ear. “Everything okay?”

Leslie glanced over to see CPO Wyatt’s brown eyes dark, almost black, as he sized up the taller man. The other guy blinked and took a step back, palms open.

“Sorry, sir,” his eyes darted over Ben’s uniform and stripes.

“Be sorry to Miss Knope,” Ben snapped, arm still around her. The man gave a curt nod.

“I’m very sorry, Miss Knope.”

“Thank you.”

“Go home,” Ben ordered, his tone abrupt enough to send a shiver through Leslie. She imagined him giving orders on a ship. “Sober up.”

The man was gone without another word and it was only then that Ben released her.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” his gaze was still heavy, but had softened considerably. His hand wrapped lightly around her elbow.

“I hope...I didn’t...that...was just to get him off your back.”

He meant the kiss. He’d kissed her ear. Leslie tried to smile.

“It worked. Thank you.”

Ben Wyatt’s hand had slipped to her own.

“You...did you not want to dance?”

“Okay! Let's dance!”

She hadn’t meant to sound so excited, but Ben’s face spread into a wide grin as he guided her to the center of the room. She smelled the Old Spice again, more obviously now as big hands pulled her close and fingers slid through hers. Leslie’s heart was racing, even though the song was slow and the pace easy. Ben wasn’t a very good dancer and he stepped on her feet twice, cursing and apologizing.

“I don’t dance much,” he explained. “I don’t really like to - ”

“We can stop!”

“No,” Ben studied her carefully. “I was really hoping you’d say yes if I asked you.”

Actually, she really hadn’t wanted to dance until Ben had asked her.  

“By the way, can I call you Leslie now?” he whispered in her ear as he swayed. Leslie giggled and allowed herself to be twirled.

“Whyyyy not.”

*****

He walked her home.

Ann and Margot weren’t ready to leave, Donna and Louise were sticking with their dancing partners, but Leslie was ready for some silence. So when Ben asked quietly if he could walk her home, she said yes.

The streets were quiet, the lights fewer and further between than they had been when she’d first moved there. Ben offered her his arm as soon as they hit the pavement. It was a nice night, with clear skies and a comfortable chill in the air. He motioned to give her his jacket, but Leslie declined. She was plenty warm with her side pressed against his.

“Where do you go after this? You said - ”

“Liverpool” he let her steer them around a corner and smiled at another couple going the other way. The man was in uniform and the woman was tiny, swallowed by a jacket much too big for her.

“Margot’s husband is missing in action,” Leslie whispered for some reason as Ben fingers curled around hers. Leslie glanced sideways and watched his lips purse.

“Is he in the army?”

“Yes.” 

“I see,” he rubbed the back of her hand. “I’m sorry.”

Leslie’s eyes started to burn as she realized what Ben was sorry for.

“How long have you been in the Navy?”

“Since the first wave went over,” he explained. “My older brother’s in the army. I haven’t heard from him in a few weeks though.”

His mouth twisted as his fingers toyed with hers.

“Anyway. I think everyone’s got a story like that right now.”

“My father’s in the army. He went over with the first wave too. He’s a captain.”

“I know,” Ben let her steer him again and his breath hitched as his voice dropped an octave. “My brother’s in his regiment actually. Henry Wyatt.”

Leslie’s eyes widened. Her father had only managed to send her a few letters, but he’d definitely mentioned a Henry in them.

“You knew when you met me?”  

“Sort of,” he smiled sideways at her. “I guessed by the name. I heard a lot about Captain Knope.”

“Why didn’t you join the army?”

Ben cleared his throat, pausing a long time before answering. “I guess, I figured if I was going to go I’d rather go this way than...you know, shot dead in a field or something.”

“Oh.”

“What number?”

Leslie ignored the question, now focusing on her father face down in a ditch somewhere. She shuddered and only looked up when Ben held her back.

“What number is your place?”

“Oh,” Leslie turned around and gulped. “Twelve.”

“We’re here,” he pointed to a set of doors that definitely belonged to Leslie’s building. Where had the time gone?

“I’m sorry I upset you.”

"You didn’t!” she blinked back tears and turned to face him. “Honestly, you didn’t. It’s a reality we’re all dealing with.”

Her next vision was of Ben, in his navy blue uniform, floating face down in the water. His brow creased deeply and Leslie stepped forward.

“I’m not upset.”

He reached out tentatively and brushed a loose tear off her cheek.

“I’m sorry.”

When his hand dropped away, Leslie grabbed for it and moved even closer.

“Thank you...for walking me home.”

Was he going to kiss her? Would he ask to come upstairs? She’d never done that before, and men were definitely not allowed above the first floor or their landlady would have a fit, but a lot of the girls had broken that rule at least once (or in Donna’s case, _five times_ ) since they’d arrived.

Leslie had kissed boys, sure, and she’d definitely been felt up before, but this seemed different. The tension that hung between them was thick and the way Ben’s thumb kept brushing over the back of hers was sending a shiver down her spine

“Thank you for walking me home,” she repeated. Her breathing sounded ragged to her own ears.

“Thank you for letting me.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed and Leslie’s chest tightened.

“Do...I suppose you want to come upstairs - ”

“I better go.”

“You...oh. Did you...not want a nightcap?”

His shoulders slumped. “I...would love one. But I better go.”

“Oh.”

Ben shuffled his feet, a small smile playing on the corners of his lips.“But I’d like to see you again like this  - ”

“I’d like to see you!” she blurted out. 

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Great,”

His fingers moved and he tilted her chin, sliding his lips over hers softly. Nothing about the way Ben kissed was sloppy. It was featherlight to start, fingers pushing into her jaw just a little before he tugged gently on her bottom lip. Leslie’s insides twisted.

It barely lasted a second, but her skin was buzzing when he pulled away. He stepped to open the main door as Leslie fumbled for her keys.

“Goodnight.”

“Go-goodnight.” She managed to sound sort of calm, even though everything was on fire. Leslie stepped inside and whirled in time to see Ben let the door fall shut as he stepped back into the street. He gave a little wave before disappearing completely.

Whoa.

The first thing Leslie did was run upstairs and check her face. She was glowing, her cheeks were bright red (and not from the rouge) her lipstick was gone and a subtle pink flush went all the way down to her décolletage.

The apartment was empty, so the next thing she did was change, take a lukewarm bath, and wonder where Ben was and what he was doing and why he kissed her.

The third thing she did was towel off and sit on the bed, re-reading letters her father had sent her searching for mention of a _Henry_ or a _Wyatt_. She unfolded the parchment, brushing her hands over the ink as if she could will herself to smell Robert Knope’s aftershave on his skin like she did when he hugged her first thing in the morning.

Her lips were still tingling as the tears finally started to flow.

When Ann and Margot entered the flat she was practically sobbing and a little hysterical, but also couldn’t stop smiling. They looked mildly horrified until Margot asked what happened with the _Navy man_ and Leslie erupted in a cackle and covered her face with her hands.

They all lay in the big bed until Donna and Louise returned, discussing every detail of the kiss until nobody but Leslie could keep their eyes open.

She dreamed of Ben that night. Of Ben’s warm lips and sharp jaw beneath her hands.

The next morning she did her best to look conservative and respectable while still being desirable. She put on her nicest undergarments, fluffed her hair under her nurse’s cap, and applied the lightest pink lipstick she could find, hoping it was just enough to entice Ben while not drawing any notice from Sister Francis.

And mascara. Ann applied two coats of mascara and promised her no one would be able to tell.

When she arrived at the hospital, Sister Maureen yanked on her wrist and asked what on earth was on her face, sending her upstairs to wash off the lipstick before seeing any of her patients. Sam trailed his hand along the edge of her skirt and murmured she was _looking fine_ when she refilled his water glass.

By noon, she still hadn’t seen CPO Wyatt, so she decided to ask Sister Maureen.

“He left for the coast,” she explained with a inconsequential wave of her hand. “He got called back early.”

Leslie’s heart moved to her throat.

“He...what?” she gulped. “But he wasn’t supposed to be there for another two days and - ”

“They needed him sooner. We just received the telegram. Leslie, be a dear and fetch Samuel some water.”

Leslie hiccuped and gave a quick nod, bustling off to the nearest corridor. Tears spilled over her cheeks and she swallowed a sob as she imagined Ben on a train without Leslie so much as getting to wish him well.

Who knew how long it would be until he came back.

Who knew if he _would_ come back.

*****

That week after Ben Wyatt left she received two letters.

The first, from her father on the Tuesday, written in his slanted, loopy font that never quite fit inside the lines. He was in France, but he couldn’t say where, and they were on a few days rest (or had been at the time it was written). He said _his girls_ were all he thought about and the only thing that kept him going. He told stories of his platoon goofing off when the tension of their every day was finally cut with some cigars and a few pints courtesy of their British hosts. He mentioned a Sergeant Wyatt and Leslie’s heart fluttered at the name.

The second she received on Thursday. It was from Ben. Unlike her father’s, his handwriting was sharp and precise.

He addressed it to Miss Leslie Knope and said he was sorry he didn’t get a chance to tell her he was leaving. He enjoyed spending time with her.

No mention of the kiss, no mention of the dancing, simple and to the point. He described the grey skies of the coast, the cold beaches, the chilly waters. Leslie let her mind wander, imagining herself there, bundled up in his arms and a cable knit sweater.

One kiss. One kiss and she was already imagining so, so much more.

Leslie wrote back with her building address and assured Ben she’d enjoyed spending time with him as well and wished him all the best when he left port.

The second week he sent her another letter, right before they were about to go out to sea. He said he enjoyed being busy, but even though he was surrounded by people it felt very isolating. He said it was still gloomy, but he kept picturing her face and hearing her laugh, and  it made everything seem brighter.

When she replied, she enclosed a small picture of herself from a dance the year before because Ben asked for one. Ann was in it too, but her face was partially obscured by Leslie’s hair.

The fourth week he sent her another letter, a much shorter one that assured Leslie her photo was the best thing he had to look at right now. He wrote of the lakes in Minnesota and how he’d always wanted to see Washington DC and hoped to go after the war was over.

Leslie wrote back excitedly of her desire to meet Eleanor Roosevelt and her love of history during college. She explained her father had been adamant she go and study. He said people like her would change the world.

That thought brought tears to her eyes and she wondered if Ben would notice the ink smeared on the paper.

Ben replied he’d never met anyone so _crazy passionate_ about anything. He said he’d take her to DC himself when they got back stateside.

He said he might love her.

She squealed with excitement as she read the words, kicking her feet in the air and falling back on her bed. Ann groaned and murmured she was trying to sleep and Leslie snuggled into her and whispered what she’d seen.

Ann’s eyelid peeled back and a smile played across her lips.

“That’s so romantic, Les.”

Leslie wrote back, detailing as much as she could of her life in Pawnee (and the new _Welcome, German Soldiers_ sign that made her stomach turn). She spoke of her mother and what a progressive champion of women’s rights she was and how her father had always admired that.

Ben didn’t write back the sixth week.

Or the seventh.

Or the eighth.

With every passing day where the mail carrier brought her nothing, Leslie grew a little more frantic. The girls tried to convince her that he was probably at sea and unable to respond and it was totally reasonable she wouldn’t get a letter every week.

Leslie checked the papers daily.

It was there, in the eleventh week, she found notice of his battleship being sunk in the mid-Atlantic. The tightness built quickly in the back of her throat and her hands trembled as she tried to make sense of the words she was reading.

He couldn’t be…

In some strange twist of fate, Ben Wyatt was not listed as one of the dead. There was no mention of survivors, but every morning Leslie hoped she would see him in her hospital after that. He wasn’t dead, which meant he could very well be alive. She’d roam the halls trembling, ask Ann and Margot to check their wards and cried quietly in closets. More than once she fell asleep waiting for new patients to arrive even when she wasn’t on the night shift.

Sister Maureen paid for a taxi home twice.

Despite all her waiting, Ben never showed. She’d never felt like this before, never missed someone like this before. How could he make her feel so much after one night?

On the twelfth week, their landlady buzzed them to ask Leslie to come downstairs.

_And do be quick about it, Miss Knope_ she’d tsked as Leslie pulled on her shoes and fluffed her hair. When she skidded the last corner of the stairs her heart jumped into her throat. There, in the doorway, in full uniform with the landlady, was Robert Knope.

Something between a squeal and a sob escaped her throat as Leslie flew across the distance between them and threw herself into his arms. She barely noticed a younger man that strongly resembled Ben at his side.

Robert Knope patted her shoulders and set her down, kissing her forehead. He still had the same easy grin her mother spoke of fondly, but his skin was more weathered, textured. Leslie cupped his cheeks and he smiled softly.

“There’s my girl.”

“Are you okay?” she blurted out. “Are you hurt? Are you eating enough?” He obviously wasn’t, his cheeks sunken and lacking any rosiness.

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” he rubbed her back. “This is Sgt. Wyatt.”

Leslie finally turned to her father’s companion. The man’s hair was cropped more closely to his skull and his jaw wasn’t quite as sharp, but his eyes were the same shade of brown and locked on her with the same intensity.

“He wrote to me about you,” was the first thing Henry Wyatt told her, before he even tipped his cap.  “He wrote about you and then my mother wrote to me...he’s missing in action.”

Instantly, Leslie erupted in a fresh fit of sobs, collapsing into the arms of her amazing father who’d taken his leave in London just to see her and deliver the news personally. He’d known nothing of Ben, but Henry had been there to tell him and they’d come all this way to inform her.

“I’m sorry,” Robert Knope wrapped her up tightly and swayed. “I got a hotel room for the evening, let us take you out for a drink.”

Leslie sniffled and nodded, disappearing inside for her bag as Henry’s eyes remained locked on her, bleary.

“He used to write the most boring stuff.” Henry informed her when they stepped out onto the street. Her father took her hand and squeezed warmly.  

“How miserable he was, how miserable his crew was, how he wished it would all just be over, one way or another. He didn’t think anyone would care if he came home anyway - which is bullshit, by the way,” Henry’s eyes darted to Leslie. “And then...I got this letter a couple of weeks ago and he said he’d met a girl. He never told me that kind of stuff, ever. But he said he met a girl and he had to make it out of this thing because he...” he gulped. “He had to see you again. And every letter after that, all he did was talk about you.”

Leslie hiccuped and Robert tightened his hold on her.

“He’s stubborn as hell, if it’s in him to get back here he’ll be back.”  

Leslie hoped so much that was true.

*****

“What’s it like?” She whispered, across from them in a dark, crowded bar. It was mostly soldiers, but there were a few other women milling around with their male companions. Henry murmured something about never taking a dame to a joint like this.

“You don’t want to know, miss.”

Leslie rolled her eyes and her father snorted.

“I work in a hospital. Nothing you tell me can be worse than what I’ve seen firsthand.”

Henry arched an eyebrow and glanced at Robert, who gave a little nod.

He spoke of soaking boots and diseased appendages, of on-site amputations and traipsing through the muck of France. He told her of not enough rations and passing fields of corpses with flies buzzing around them and insides spilling out.

When Leslie’s stomach churned her face must’ve shown it, because her father held up a hand and Henry instantly went silent.

“Excuse me, Miss Knope.”

An hour later they piled into a cozy hotel a few blocks away. There was a roaring fire in the lounge area and a few people huddled around it. Robert handed Leslie a key and guided her towards the stairwell with a hand in the small of her back. Henry unlocked the room beside them and handed that key to Robert before disappearing.

“You’ll be okay by yourself?” Robert asked as Leslie stepped into the other room. She nodded quickly, wanting to talk to Ann and tell her everything, but also grateful to have a few moments of quiet. Leslie sat on the bed and her father settled in the chair opposite.

“So, you never mentioned this young man in your letters.”

Leslie blushed. “We only met a few weeks ago. I sent a letter to Mom, but I don’t think she’s got it yet.”

She sniffled at the realization she might never see Ben again, no matter what Henry said.

“I’m so sorry, Leslie.”

“Ishedead?”

“I don’t know,” he rubbed her knee. “I wish I knew.”

She nodded, letting the tears spill down her cheeks. Robert moved to the bed, pulling Leslie into his arms and rocking gently. 

“I’m so worried about him,” she whispered. “And you, I was so worried about you and soon you’ll be back there and I’ll be here and Mom will be in Indiana and we can’t do anything about it.” 

Robert whispered nonsense into her hair and then said nothing else for the rest of the night.

*****

After her father and Henry Wyatt returned to the front, Leslie called her mother from the payphone on the ground floor. She sobbed into the receiver and told Marlene how Robert had looked and how afraid she was for all of them. She told her about Ben - every small detail she could manage - including him saying he was in love with her.

“I barely know him.”

Marlene clucked her tongue pragmatically.

“It sounds like you know enough, sweetheart.”

Leslie whimpered. Her mother wasn’t always overtly affectionate, but she was always there when Leslie needed a hug or some reassurance.

“What if he’s dead?”  she choked out. Marlene sighed. She was thinking the same thing Leslie was - his ship had sunk, the reason they hadn’t found his body was that he was at the bottom of the ocean.

“Then he died caring about you.”

Leslie cried for what felt like the millionth time that week. When she went to bed it was with Margot wrapped around her and her friend’s own tears wetting the back of her nightgown.


	2. Part II

Every day after that, she couldn’t help her listlessness. There were no letters to expect, she felt awful talking about Ben in front of Margot who understood, but was in just as bad of a situation. Even Sam’s playful banter did nothing to brighten her mood.

“It’s that sailor boy, right?” he asked one morning as she changed his dressings. Leslie whimpered and nodded, excusing herself to go off and cry some more.

Days passed, and then weeks. She received one more letter from her father, talked to her mother on the phone twice and cried a little bit less. Still, every time someone else was brought into the hospital Leslie secretly hoped it would be Ben.

There were more dances, but Leslie couldn’t will herself to go. Margot talked her into it one night, but she ended up just moping in a corner and taking the bus home.

She thought about writing to Ben’s mother just to express her condolences and ask if she’d received _the_ visit from the war office yet, but that seemed tactless. How long would they wait before declaring him dead officially? Jim had been missing for months and they still hadn’t sent Margot anything.

On the day Sam was finally set to be discharged he asked her out again. He stood up on his crutches, called himself an old cripple, and asked if he could buy her a drink and then, if she felt like it, get hitched.

Leslie had laughed softly and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m serious, dollface.”

She believed him and his hopeful puppy dog eyes made her heart hurt.

“Nooooo, you aren’t.”

He reached for her by the hip. “I’ll take you back to New York with me. You can meet my ma.”

She ignored his words, hugging him as tightly as she dared. He shuddered into her hair.

“At least think about it,” he tapped her nose before pulling away.

She was talking to Sister Francis about Sam’s travel arrangements and packing him a sandwich when a throat clearing made Leslie’s whole body seize up. Sister Francis’s brows raised considerably as her gaze fixated on something behind Leslie.

“Um...hi...Leslie...Nurse Knope...I don’t...you probably don’t remember me, but - ”

She whirled, eyes straining in their sockets as she took in a very scruffy, disheveled Ben Wyatt. His gaze was heavy and his jaw was slack. He fidgeted nervously.

And she shrieked his name and threw herself into him so hard he stumbled backwards. Sister Francis yelped for Leslie to control herself, but Leslie didn’t care, couldn’t care. Ben was there and alive and his hands started sliding over her back.

“Ben, Ben, Ben,” he held her securely against him and Leslie burrowed her face into his neck, inhaling deeply.

“I was so worried,” she stammered.

“Nurse Knope, please settle yourself.”

Ben put her down carefully, the expression on his face a little startled.

“Uh...hi.”

“You...your ship…”

“We got out...barely,” he touched her hair. “I...we tried to help...but where it hit most of the guys were...incinerated, and…it was just bodies in the water.”

He was shaking and his eyes were glassy. The poor baby. Leslie rubbed his arms.

“Do you...are you hurt?”

“No,” he cupped the back of her neck and held her gaze. “Just exhausted. We were in a raft for days and I’m not sure we would’ve made it any longer. Some Irish fishermen found us and took us to the mainland where we were recovering, but...”

She sniffled and Ben swiped at her cheeks. “I know it’s a mess here and you don’t have any beds to spare, but I came to see if there was maybe a cot or something I could lie on in the hallway or - ”

“Come home with me,” she gasped, just low enough that Sister Francis couldn’t hear her. Ben’s eyes widened.

“You...yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Leslie - ”

“I’ll cover her shift!” Louise chimed in. “Take the boy somewhere quiet, love! He’s a brave soldier - he needs some rest!”

Leslie was gone before Sister Francis could argue.

*****

Despite the direness of the situation - Ben almost dying and everything - Leslie couldn’t help but giggle as she snuck him through the lobby and upstairs. He stayed close to her, his lithe, powerful frame warm and hard against her back. At one point, his hands grabbed her hips, but that was just to pull her back as someone else rounded a corner.

Leslie let out a breath as soon as they were safely inside, turning the lock and running her hands through her hair.

She had a man in her apartment. A man she’d only interacted with for two days and written a couple of letters to was in her apartment, feet from where her bed was. Goodness, what would her mother say about this?

Ben shifted uncomfortably on the balls of his feet, and it was then Leslie realized his teeth were chattering. That alone distracted her. She leapt into action, going into full nurse-mode as she guided him into the bathroom and fussed over the cuts and bruises she could see. He’d been through hell and back, from the sounds of it, and she’d be damned if she let her own feelings of awkwardness get in the way of taking care of him.

“I didn’t even think you’d remember me,” he whispered like an idiot for the second time. How could she forget him? “I figured you had a ton of guys writing you and telling you the same things...I honestly didn’t think you’d remember me.”

Leslie crinkled her nose, words firm and clear. “There are no other guys, just you. I feel like I haven’t stopped crying for weeks because I thought you were…”

He inhaled sharply when she touched his face and Leslie quickly ripped her hands away.

“Sorry - ”

“It’s okay - ”

“Force of habit - ”

“I meant what I said.”

Leslie stiffened.

“In the letters,” he took her hand and toyed with her fingers. “I meant everything I said.”

“I met Henry.”

Ben’s eyes widened.

“What?”

“I met Henry. He came to London with my father and we talked about you. He said you talked about me. He was okay. He was tired, but okay...”

She trailed off at the brisk knock at her door and a frantic _Miss Knope_!

“Crap on a...” Ben’s jaw dropped open and Leslie blushed. “Sorry. Sailor mouth. I mean, being around sailors...I…”

“Miss Knope! I know you’re in there!”

“Sorry,” Leslie threw on the taps and put the stopper into the bath. “Get in; I’ll get rid of her.”

She caught the look of shock on Ben’s face as she ran out of the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

“Sorry Mrs. McCabe,” she breathed as she pulled open the door to reveal their elderly landlady with a severe bob cut and eyebrows drawn onto her face. Her thin lips pursed carefully.

“Leslie, girl, what on earth are you doing home this time of day? Did something happen at the hospital?”

“I was feeling a bit under the weather,” she lied, palms sweaty. Mrs. McCabe frowned and touched her forehead.

“You are quite clammy, dear. Shall I come in and make you some tea - ”

“No!” Leslie squawked, throwing her body in front of Mrs. McCabe. “No, no no. I’m just having a bath and Margot will be home soon.”

The older woman studied her carefully, but gave a little nod.

“Very well. I’ll check in on you later.”

“Thank you, Mrs. McCabe.”

Mrs. McCabe mumbled something about _high-strung Yankees_ as the door was closed again. Leslie ran back to the bathroom, heart pounding and perspiration collecting on her brow. In the back of her mind she noted the water had stopped running, but she pushed through the door without thinking.

And there was Ben Wyatt. In her bath, his clothes on the floor in a heap and up to his neck in bubbles. So many bubbles. She bit her lip to keep from laughing, both out of nerves and amusement. Ben Wyatt was naked and six-feet away, with only some bubbles covering the good partss.

“S-sorry. I was freezing.”

“I’ll give you some privacy - ”

“No, please, if...I’d like very much if you would stay. I just...not...I’m...sorry, this is weird and I’m being…” 

Leslie kneeled beside the bath and reached for his hand. She might not be a great trauma nurse, but comforting people she could definitely do. Ben squeezed back, and the tension etched into his features started to recede, finally.

“Thank you.”

*****

He told her about everything.

He told her about the ship, the missile, the raft, the darkness. He told her how cold and desolate it was on the raft and what he saw and thumbed her hand when she whimpered. He told her he hadn’t been in his bunk when they’d had to evacuate (which was the reason he survived) and her picture was somewhere at the bottom of the Atlantic.

He told her she was even prettier than he remembered.

His sudsy hand reached up to touch her cheek.

“So is that army guy still convalescing and grabbing at you every chance he gets?”

Leslie cackled. “He doesn’t grab at me every chance he gets.”

Ben chuckled, thumbing her jaw and brushing fingers over her lower lip. She held her breath.

“You’re too good to me,” he whispered for no reason.

“I was so worried about you,” she reiterated, as the tears started again. Ben shook his head tugging just slightly until Leslie was up and in the tub - fully clothed - as she wound around him. Ben’s hands froze as she burrowed into his chest.

After a few seconds, Ben shifted again and murmured _good lord_.

“Oh, I’m in the tub with you.” She definitely hadn’t meant to do that.

“Yes,” Leslie looked up. “Please don’t tell your father about this.”

She giggled and Ben cupped her cheeks as her knees slid to either side of his thighs.

“Am I dreaming?”

“No.”

“Am I dead?”

“Noooo,” she wound her arms around his neck. “You’re here with me and I’m going to take care of you. I’m a trained healthcare professional.”

Her lips grazed his cheek and Ben shuddered, so she did it again. He shifted a little in the water and his hands slid down her back.

“Do all your patients get this kind of treatment? Because I might be jealous if they do.”

Leslie giggled against his throat, pressing her lips to his Adam’s apple when he swallowed. Ben exhaled.

“H-honey.”

“I was so worried,” she brushed her mouth along his jaw, every muscle in her body trembling. He was definitely shifting, but the very idea that she was doing _that_ to him made her want to do it even more. “So, so so worried. I kept reading your letters and wondering where you were and if I’d ever see you again.”

“Honey,” Ben’s voice was calm and level now. He brushed her hair off her neck.

“And I said to Ann, I don’t even care if I never meet Eleanor Roosevelt, as long as Ben comes home.”

“You said that?” he pulled her forehead to his. “You barely know me.”

“I know you! I know you’re from Minnesota and you have a brother named Henry and a sister named Steph and you want to go to Washington one day and your parents fight a lot and that’s probably why you enlisted instead of waiting to be drafted. I know you like hockey and pretend to like fishing because your dad expects you to. I know you’re a good person because you were sweet to me and walked me home and didn’t even try to feel me up.”

“Well, to be fair, it was the long con. I was secretly hoping pretending I was a gentleman would trick you into getting in the bath with me. Although when I imagined it, you were naked too.”

Leslie snickered and smacked him playfully. He laughed.

“You should get out before you catch a cold.”

Leslie started to protest just as the front door opened.

“Leslie?” Margot did the same after a beat. “Leslie, love, are you sleeping? Mrs. McCabe said you weren’t feeling well. I brought you some…”

The door clicked shut and Margot’s tone changed.

“I know you’ve stashed your fella up here, Les. Where is he?”

Leslie sighed. “We’re in the…”

The bathroom door swung open and Margot and Ann gawked...and then erupted in loud laughter.

“Oh my god…” Ann enunciated each word carefully.

“For your information, I wanted to cuddle him!”

“I bet he wanted to cuddle you too,” Margot quipped, tongue firmly in cheek. “All of him. I’ll close the door, sailor. It must be quite drafty - ”

She squealed when a shampoo bottle went flying at the door, slamming it shut just in time to save herself from getting hit.

“We should go somewhere else,” Leslie whispered to a startled Ben. She didn’t know who this version of herself was - the version that was suggesting to a man she’d never spent 24 cumulative hours with he sneak off somewhere private with her. Ben rubbed her sides and frowned.

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes.”

She stood up carefully, reaching for a towel. The water sloshed over the sides of the tub and her hair had bubbles in it, but she didn’t care. She turned around and passed Ben a towel backwards so he could dry off and step into his pants.

Ben then did the same, turning around so she could take off her nurse’s uniform and slip on Louise’s bathrobe, which was the only one hanging on the door at the moment.

She studied his bare chest as she did, taking in his strong but not bulging arms and the rise of his pectorals beneath his breath. She touched his skin when she had covered herself and Ben took her hand, kissing the inside of her wrist. He tugged on his shirt and she fought the urge to pout. She liked the idea of feeling his skin against hers.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure?”

“Yes, Ben. We’re not going to make you sleep on a couch while you recuperate. I’ll take you somewhere nice with a bed...” she trailed off and her cheeks grew hot. He drew her closer.

“I love you.”

“You do?” 

“Yes,” he tilted her chin. “And I’d like to kiss you hello now, because once we go out there I won’t get to.”

Leslie nodded quickly and Ben’s lips were on hers, slow and thoughtful with just an undercurrent of heat. She gasped and drew him in, and Ben groaned as Leslie’s fingers curled into his shirt collar.  

Their noses rubbed and she smiled into him, breathless.

They emerged, holding hands and sheepish. Ann wasted no time sitting them on the couch and waggling her finger.

“Tell me everything.”

Leslie did, with the feeling of Ben’s lips still pulling on hers and his fingers curling and uncurling around her hand. Ann smiled when Leslie finished, but Margot frowned.

“Where on earth are we supposed to put him?”

“I’ll get a hotel,” Ben finally spoke. Leslie nodded eagerly.

“We’ll get a hotel.”

Ann and Margot exchanged a look. “Leslie, may we speak with you in the bedroom?”

Leslie stood slowly, hand slipping from Ben’s as she followed them through the curtain.

“Leslie, you barely know him.”

“I trust him.”

“Leslie,” Ann warned. “Trusting him is one thing, but spending the night with him is another.”

“We might not even have sex!”

“Leslie, are you su - ”

“Yes,” she nodded firmly and Margot’s eyes widened.

“You are,” something flashed behind her friend’s eyes.

“ _Yes_.”

“Well dammit, we don’t have much time before Mrs. McCabe puts the prisoners on lockdown for the night. Ann, grab her something to wear to bed and I’ll do the make up.”

“And clothes for tomorrow,” Louise and Donna busted in. Leslie hadn’t even heard the door. “Get her some clothes for tomorrow. The dripping sailor boy on the couch said he’s going to a hotel and you better be going with him, Knope.”

Leslie gawked as the silkiest, shimmeriest bluish-grey nightgown she had ever seen was slipped into her carpet bag by Ann. Louise shoved a dress in after it, promising it wouldn’t need ironed. Donna found a pair of sensible shoes and thrust them in Leslie’s direction.

“And wear that red thing tonight.”

In no time, Leslie was naked, shimming into her undergarments while Donna fussed with her dampened hair. Louise did her best with the makeup. Ann calmly slipped a small packet into a pouch on the side of her bag.

“Just in case.”

Leslie’s eyes bulged. Was that a…

Ann winked and her cheeks flushed.

Okay, they weren’t doing _that_.

Well, she wasn’t ruling anything out, but she didn’t _think_ they were doing that.

*****

“You look really pretty,” Ben murmured when they were free and clear (thanks to the fire escape and Donna creating a diversion). He held her arm firmly in his and rubbed the back of her hand occasionally.

The red dress swished around her knees and Leslie smiled.

“You keep saying that.”

“Babydoll, I’ve been staring at bad smelling, unshaven men every day for weeks. You’re like the sun coming out after a storm, and I’m going to tell you how beautiful you are all night.”

Leslie was grateful he couldn’t tell she was blushing in the dim streets. She steered the way, taking them to a quiet restaurant not far from the apartment. They ate and held hands and Ben finally seemed to get the color back in his cheeks.

When they were both full, Leslie guided them back down the street to the hotel she’d spent the night at only weeks before.

Leslie’s hands trembled and she wrung her scarf through them as Ben spoke to the man behind the front desk, eyeing them curiously.

“What do you want?” He demanded in a thick, gruff accent. Ben’s arm slid around her hips securely.

“We’d like a room for the night.”

Her heart fluttered and Ben slid some money across the counter. “We eloped,” he explained simply. “I’d like a night alone with my wife before I go back.”

Ben gestured to his uniform and the man softened considerably, sliding a silver key attached to a wooden plaque with a room number on it, on the fourth floor this time. Leslie shuddered as Ben signed some forms and the man tipped his hat at her.

“Have a nice evening, Mrs. Wyatt.”

It sounded so incredibly strange, but she didn’t hate it, if she was being honest.

*****

He helped her out of her coat when they were in the room and Leslie’s pulse instantly started to race. Here she was, alone with Ben for real for real. A week ago she’d been thinking she would never see him again and now she was about to strip down to a slinky nightgown and let him see a lot of her.

Her pseudo-husband stepped forward, rubbing her arms slowly as he heated her skin under his gaze. He started to lean in, paused to check her face, and then closed the distance between them. The kiss started firm and smooth, but then his tongue flicked lightly and Leslie murmured and parted her lips. His tongue slid against hers and she dragged him closer as his hands slid across her back and through her hair. He tilted her head, deepening the kiss until a soft moan escaped her. Leslie blushed, but felt him smile against her mouth as he stepped out of his shoes. Leslie did the same, and Ben followed as she lost height and arched into him.

She had no idea how long they kissed for, but her curls were everywhere and her lips raw when they finally broke. Leslie panted, clutching Ben’s shirt as if she was afraid of letting him get too far away. He rubbed her waist, forehead against hers.

“Should we...did you want to get changed for...bed? I can sleep on the floor or in the chair, but I just thought you might want to get comfy - ”

"Yes.”

He let out a rattly breath and pushed his nose into her hair. “Okay. Bathroom’s all yours.”

*****

“Leslie?” Ben called softly through the door. She didn’t know why she was shaking so badly, but the very notion of Ben, in there waiting for her, was making her nervous. He knocked and Leslie squeaked.

Okay, she’d been in there for a really long time. The nighty was pretty, but Leslie had no idea what to do about her undergarments. Take them off...leave them on...she wished Ann was around to ask.

“I’m not…” Ben’s voice was clipped. “I’m not going to force myself on you. I just want to spend some time with you. There’s a robe in the cupboard if you’d rather wear that...”

God, how had she fake-married the sweetest man in Europe?

Leslie took a deep breath and pulled the door open, taking in Ben in his undershirt and and pants and folding her arms across her chest. Her nipples were obvious, her short legs were barely covered and her cleavage was...prominent. His eyes widened as he swallowed.

“W-wow.”

“Good wow or bad wow?”

“Great...amazing... _wow_.”

Her cheeks flamed, but his words were enough to make Leslie drop her arms. Ben gulped, reaching out to touch a curl almost reverently. She wanted to be in his arms again so he would stop staring at her.

“You’re...really, really beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you cold? You’re shaking.”

“No.”

Ben met her eyes and reddened.  

“Oh.”

He stepped closer. Leslie tried to smile, but it melted into her face as Ben dipped his head and pushed his lips lightly into her neck. Leslie swallowed the gasp that threatened to escape her throat and watched as Ben pulled back, brow creased. She tried again to smile, but it felt sort of painful so Ben just kissed her again, this time on the mouth.

His nose rubbed against hers as he pulled away and Leslie laughed out loud, stomach churning pleasantly.

“Do you want to get under the blankets?” His hands moved to her waist, holding her gently. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“Okay.”

“O-okay,” Ben’s jaw was scruffy in the dim light and Leslie resisted the urge to push her lips against it.

“What are you thinking?”

Ben smiled. “I love you.”

Her heart twisted, Ben’s strong arms winding around her waist. He murmured and rubbed his nose down her neck and Leslie shuddered.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve shaved.”

Probably, but she wasn’t complaining in the moment. The scruff felt amazing on her skin and was only making the need bubbling inside her burn hotter. She wanted him. She was pretty sure she wanted him in every possible way right in this moment and all they’d done was kiss.

She thought of the boys that had honked her breasts and pinched her nipples in the backseat of their father’s Ford coupe. Ben Wyatt was nothing like them.

His hands felt so nice, moving solidly over her arms and waist, bunching the silk between his fingers.

“You love me?” she licked her lips, ignoring the apology.

“Yes.”

Leslie giggled and his lips pressed lightly against hers, trapping the words between them.

And then she started crying.

Ben ripped himself away, eyes wide with horror.

“Leslie, what’s wrong?”

Big hands came up to wipe her eyes, but that just made Leslie cry harder.

She probably loved him too, and she was so happy about it she might burst.

Because it _felt_ like Ben loved her. It didn’t feel like a platitude he was spewing to get into her pants after so many days at sea. It felt like he meant it.

“I love you too.”

He kissed her again, harder but no less thoughtfully and Leslie’s cheeks grew instantly hot when a soft moan escaped her lips.

Ben’s fingers gripped tighter and a groan came out of him as he pulled her closer. His feet shuffled and Leslie went easily without a second thought, allowing Ben to spin her and set her gently on the bed.

“Fuck,” he climbed over top of her. “I mean...um… Excuse my...language. You are just...really…and I can’t believe…”

Her cheeks tinged pink, but she reached for him.

“You’re sure, right?”

People needed to stop asking her that. “I’m sure.”

Ben sat back on his knees, sliding his hands over her sides. She shuddered when his thumb rubbed over her nipple through the silk. He licked his lips and did it again and Leslie sighed as it puckered. Ben leaned forward and brushed his lips against her collarbone. He nipped and she groaned and pushed up into him.

“Ben,” her legs wrapped around him and he moved his tongue between her lips, grinding lightly against her. The swishing of her nighty felt nice against her skin, but she hated the scratchy cotton of his undershirt under her palms. Leslie plucked at it eagerly, grinning when Ben took over and tossed it in a heap. She took in his pale chest, the dark hair of his lower stomach, the sharp cuts of his hipbone. A chain with dog tags hung around his neck, dangling over her as Ben leaned down to kiss her knee. He chuckled when she shuddered as the metal brushed her skin, lifting them over his neck and setting them on the nightstand. Leslie rubbed her foot against his leg.

“Pants?”

“Yes.”

He got off the bed and she watched his slacks drop in a heap. Leslie’s heart started to pound when she noted the tenting of the front of his shorts.

“We don’t…” Ben glanced around as though something in the room would give him an answer. “We don’t have to do this.”

Leslie yanked Ben down on top of her. Whether they were doing _it_ or not, he should definitely keep kissing her.

He paused to turn off the bedside lamp and then Leslie forgot everything but his mouth and hands.

*****

They did it.

They _super_ did it.

It hadn’t been the big ceremonious build up she’d been anticipating. Instead they’d just made out for ages and kept touching each other and the more they did that the more she knew what she wanted. She was literally throbbing, whimpering for more of him. Ben had fished a condom out of his wallet and pushed inside her slowly, sitting back on his knees and letting Leslie relish in the stretch and slight stinging she experienced.

It was a pleasant sensation and the endless kisses along her face, neck and breasts were wonderful, but what she really loved was seeing him so undone. She loved the way his muscles clenched, the noises he made muffled into her neck, the way he shuddered and collapsed against her.

Afterwards, he'd brushed his lips over every inch of her, disappearing only long enough to clean himself up. When he came back to bed he'd pulled her onto his chest and Leslie sighed, content. 

“Are you okay?” he’d whispered into her. Leslie nodded and rubbed his arm.

Now, the sun was filtering through the heavy drapes and Ben’s palm was pressing lightly into her abdomen, circling up to her chest and returning. She was still in Ann’s nighty and there was no way she could give it back to her best friend ever. She hadn't taken it off all night.

Oops.

She’d have to buy Ann a replacement.

Ben kissed her lightly, paying no heed to her morning breath (which was a thing women’s magazines had warned her about, she was advised to pull herself together before her _lover_ woke up). She stretched dreamily and mumbled something about being a mess.

“You are the furthest thing from a mess,” Ben cooed, hand coming up to cup her breast and then sliding back down to her leg. “Did...you’re okay, though?”

“Yes,” she felt all warm and stretched out, but nothing really _hurt_.

Well, just a little, but that was to be expected. Ben didn’t need to feel bad about that.

His thumb brushed the skin of her inner knee and Leslie sighed, watching as it crept up her leg in slow motion. When he reached the crest of her thigh he licked his lips and dragged his fingers through her wetness.

“Do you want to...”

“Shhhh,” he kissed her neck, touching her so slowly it was almost torturous. Her body thrummed and Ben’s thumb flicked as a long finger spread her open and dipped inside. He nuzzled her ear and flicked again, adding another finger and repeating until a delicious heat started coiling in her belly.

Whoa, what was happening?

His fingers pumped, the palm rubbing against her. Leslie arched up, toes curling against the mattress and pushing into his hand. Ben kissed her hard and kept moving as a cold heat swept through Leslie. She cried out, both wanting more and trying to squirm away, but Ben held her in place, nibbling her ear and twisting his fingers faster.

His mouth dropped, tongue rolling around her nipple through silk. His fingers spread her wetness, his thumb flicked and he lips suckled all at once. She bucked hard as waves pulsed through her, gasping for breath and slumping onto the mattress.

Ben smoothed his lips over her own and they both sighed.

*****

Ben kissed her shoulder as she pulled on her scarf, winding his arms around her waist and Leslie tensed just a little.

Crap, was she sure about this? Having sex with a man after so little time together? She’d wanted it to be special and it had been special, but she’d also never imagined she’d have only known the person for…

Unless letters counted as dates. Could letters count as dates during wartime? That seemed a reasonable alternative. It wasn’t like he could take her out for a milkshake these days. It wasn’t like she thought he was going to ignore her after today and never speak to her again. He’d gotten the milk for free, but he was doting on her like he’d paid for the cow already…

Or...something. She’d talk to Ann about it when she got back. It had felt good and it wasn’t like she could take it back now, anyway.

“Ready?” he helped her into her coat and Leslie nodded. Ben dipped to press their mouths together again. Leslie smiled as the worries floated away. He was the one who couldn’t stop kissing her.

“Try to control yourself when we’re in public, _sailor_.”

Ben chuckled, guiding her through the door.

It was a grey, winter’s day, the ground hard and the streets fairly empty. Leslie shivered and Ben pulled her closer as they walked briskly through the streets on the way to Cora’s.

“I have to go back soon,” he blurted out unceremoniously as they stepped through a crosswalk. Leslie stopped dead in the middle of the roadway.

 _What_?

“But...you...your ship sank! You almost died! Surely they don’t need you to - ”

“I have my orders. I called the base and I’ve been assigned to a new ship and they want me back by the end of the - ”

“NO!” she shoved him, angry tears instantly burning her vision. “That’s not fair! You...you’ve done _plenty_ and you almost _died_ and surely that’s enough, Ben! That’s not...it’s not...I’m going to write a letter to President Roosevelt and the First Lady and I’m going to tell them...it’s not _fair_.”

She hiccupped as Ben dragged her into his chest and swayed.

“I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”

“You almost died!” she cried out. His chest heaved.

“But I didn’t and you know how short they are on manpower - ”

“What if your ship sinks again!”

It wasn’t a question. Ben exhaled and nodded.

“I know, I know.”

She growled something into his chest and he nuzzled her ear.

“I’m sorry.”

She knew he was. She knew he didn’t have a choice and deep down that  it made sense. Of course he had to go back - the war wasn’t done.

Leslie nodded and turned to finish crossing the street, but Ben remained still, holding onto her wrist.

“Hey, wait a second.”

She spun just as he dropped to one knee. Her eyes bulged.

“What are you doing?” she covered a hand over her mouth. Ben smiled and kissed her knuckles. “Oh my god, what are you doing?”

He said something about loving her and wanting to be with her forever and promised he’d get her a ring when he came home. Leslie cried and babbled _yes_ and Ben jumped up, scooping her into his arms and kissing her hard amidst a flurry of catcalls as the deserted streets became more crowded. She laughed as he wiped her eyes and made her say it again.

Which resulted in more kissing.

Ben wanted to marry her.

He said it was all the reason he needed to come home.

They went to Cora’s, held hands across the table and Leslie ordered the waffles. Ben had an omelet and when he asked for a bite she swatted at his hand and he grinned and kissed her in a totally indecent way in public, licking powdered sugar and whipped cream off her lips.

“Where should we go for our honeymoon?” Ben asked like it was the most casual thing in the world. Leslie smiled and sipped her coffee.

“Washington.”

Ben grinned.

“Perfect.”

*****

They stayed a second night in the room, Leslie calling Ann after breakfast to let her know as much. Afterwards Ben called the base to confirm the details of his orders and told her he’d have to take the train the next day.

She didn’t cry, just kissed him and pulled him over her on the bed. When he sank inside her for the second time it was with her arms pinned overhead, fingers tangled with his and his mouth on her neck as her name fell from his lips.

With her legs hiked up high on his hips she finally understood what all the fuss was about. 

Neither of them really slept that night. They ate a quiet dinner and lay on their sides in bed, talking about everything and nibbling bare stretches of skin on occasion. They waited until the last possible second to dress for the day and Leslie winced at the tightness building in her throat.

They took a taxi to the train station and Ben paid the driver to wait and take Leslie straight back to her flat afterwards.

Because her fiance was sweet.

 _Fiance_.

She couldn’t believe she was actually uttering that word. Her parents were going to murder her when the found out she was engaged to someone they hadn’t even met.

Leslie couldn’t stop the tears from falling down her cheeks when it was time to go. Ben wrapped her up, holding her against his chest. They stood on the platform and a few people Ben knew shouted things at them. But while Ben snarled back, Leslie never made sense of any of it. His hands were in her hair and she just wanted to take him back to bed.

He kissed her forehead and wiped her eyes.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” she choked out, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief. Ben pushed his lips into her ear and rubbed her back soothingly.

“I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

Leslie tried to smile but her heart was in her throat.

“And then we’ll get hitched, right _Mrs. Wyatt_?”

She giggled and smacked him on the arm as his lips found hers again.

“Be safe.”

Ben drew her knuckles to his lips and stepped onto the train. She pushed a picture into his hands before the doors closed and blew him a kiss as it sped away from London. 

Away from her.

*****

In the weeks that came, Leslie fell back into her regular routine. She wrote Ben, who couldn’t reply often but did whenever they docked for supplies. In his first letter since his departure he included a tiny silver band with a small, red stone in the middle of it.

 _Until I can buy you a real one, babydoll,_ he wrote. _Maybe this will keep the GIs from pawing at you._

By Spring of 1944, her father and Henry Wyatt came back to London on leave. He missed her mother terribly, he admitted, but a week’s notice was not nearly enough time for a journey across the Atlantic. She was given three days off from the hospital to take him around the city.

“He’s doing okay?” Henry asked quietly. Leslie nodded and smiled as best she could.

“I think so,” she whispered back, a few paces behind Robert. “He can’t write as often anymore.”

Henry nodded sadly and asked her to pass on a message the next time she wrote him back. He asked her to tell Ben his big brother loved him and he couldn’t wait to mess around with him again when this thing was over.

Their last night in London, Leslie took her father to her building’s payphone so he could call Marlene. She waited eagerly, hoping to talk to her mother as well, but her father dismissed her.

“I’d like to talk to my wife alone, honey,” he told Leslie gently but firmly. Leslie watched his eyes darken ever so slightly and excused herself. Of course he did. He hadn’t seen her in two years.

They left with hugs and kisses and Leslie bade them a tearful farewell, assuring Henry she would give his brother the message.

The girls still dressed up, went to dances. One afternoon in June, Chris Traegar appeared on the doorstep. Ann, perfect, composed Ann, managed to smile and hug him warmly, but Leslie definitely saw the tears in her eyes when she pecked his cheek. They disappeared for an entire week and when Ann returned, it was with an odd combination of anxiety and relief.

“How long can this thing go on?” she whispered to Leslie in bed that night.  Leslie had no idea. They listened to the radio every evening and it seemed like the Allies were finally regaining some territory at a steady rate, but according to Prime Minister Churchill, the war was far from over.

Which meant Ben was far from coming home.

In late July, Leslie got called to the lobby. Mrs. McCabe sounded terse on the phone and for the entire traipse down the stairs Leslie feared who might be waiting for her. Her heart stalled when she noted someone from the war office standing in the center of the room, holding a telegram.

Right behind him was Ben.

She leapt down the last two steps and threw herself into his arms. He stumbled and rubbed her back.

“Hi, babydoll.”

“How long?” she whimpered into his neck. The telegram wasn’t for her and though she was heartbroken for whoever it belonged to, all that mattered in the moment was Ben.

“Five days. I already booked us a place to stay in the country. Can you get someone to cover your shifts - ?”

“Yes, yes yes,” she burrowed into his chest. She’d figure it out.

“Leslie,” Mrs. McCabe interrupted sharply. “Girl, is Margot upstairs?”  

A new sense of dread filled her and Ben tightened his arm around her waist. The man from the war office gave an apologetic shrug.

 _Oh, no_.

“M-Margot?” she squeaked. “Our...our Margot? Who lives - ”

“Yes, Leslie,” Mrs. McCabe answered firmly, clipped. “Leslie, is she up there - ”

“NO!” Leslie let out a shaky breath. “I mean, y-yes, she’s...she’s upstairs.”

“You best fetch her.”

“No!” Leslie protested. “No, send him up. Please? Please, Mrs. McCabe, I know the rules, but she...you’re going to give her that news in the _lobby_?”

Mrs. McCabe sighed, but nodded.

“You stay where you are, Mr. Wyatt.” 

Ben nodded, but managed to squeeze Leslie’s hand before she disappeared. 

Margot dropped to her knees instantly, ignoring the telegram as the man inclined his head at her.

“I’m very sorry for your loss, ma’am.”

She snapped at him to get the hell out and Mrs. McCabe didn’t even chastise her for her language as Leslie got down on the floor beside her and wrapped her up. She read the telegram. _Presumed dead_ was what was written on it. Margot sobbed into her neck and Mrs. McCabe offered to make them a cup of tea.

It was more whiskey than tea, and Leslie helped Margot to the bed just as the rest of the girls came home.

Around 10PM Mrs. McCabe returned to tell Leslie she’d found Ben a room for the evening.

Around 10:30PM Ben climbed through the window.

He didn’t say anything, just sat on the couch while four of them fussed around Margot. She finally slept, her head in Ann’s lap as they took turns stroking her hair.

Leslie appeared in the living room and sat beside Ben, legs draped over his. He kissed her forehead and rocked her gently.

“I’m sorry.” He rubbed her thighs. “I’m so sorry.”

“He was missing for a while,” Leslie sighed as Ben twirled a curl around his finger. “It was only a matter of time,” she laced their fingers together. “I don’t think I should leave tonight.”

“Okay,” he squeezed her knee, chin bumping against her temple. “We’ll stay here.”

*****

“It’s so nice here,” Leslie murmured. They were lying on their sides on a massive bed in a quaint little inn outside of the city. The grounds were lush and green and reminded her of the most beautiful parks in Pawnee.

Well, okay, they were more beautiful than the parks in Pawnee, but only because no one on City Council wanted to take a parks clean up initiative seriously. To be fair, their grounds weren’t naturally lush and green (unlike stupid Eagleton) and after The Depression they hadn’t had money to do anything about it. But they would, one day.

“I hope she’s okay.” Leslie sighed. She’d felt bad leaving Margot, but Louise had taken the day off to be with her and Ann was home at noon thanks to working the night shift.

Margot had kissed her cheeks and told her to go, enjoy Ben while she could, and Leslie hadn’t hesitated as much as she should’ve. The more Margot cried the more Leslie imagined what could happen at sea and the more she wanted to cling to him.

“So, I have good news and bad news,” Ben played with her fingers, the white sheet barely covering his hipbones. She wanted to kiss him there, but the last time she’d done that she was fairly certain she’d almost killed him.

“Tell me.”

“I won’t be back again until Christmas.”

Christmas. Five long months away, _but_ he would be home for Christmas.

“I get it off. It’s my thank you for almost dying but then not.”

Leslie smiled.

“But you’ll be here.”

“I’ll be here,” he pecked the tip of her nose. “With bells on.”

“Mhmmm,” she squeezed his butt and he squawked. “I like the sound of that.”

She cackled when he tickled her, rolling underneath him and squirming until he relented.

 *****

The letters continued for the next five months and on Christmas Eve, Ben was reunited with his brother. They found each other at the train station (Leslie was there to meet him) and tackled and clung to each other so hard Leslie had to blink back the stinging behind her eyes.  

Robert Knope stepped off with a few other soldiers and reached for her instantly, whispering how lucky he was to spend the holidays with one of his girls.

They went to a fancy hall for dinner and Donna and Ann joined them. Margot and Louise had gone to be with their families, but crossing the Atlantic was still too treacherous and time consuming.

Robert grilled Ben. His first question was why Leslie had a ring on her finger.

Ben, sweet, dorky Ben with a love of numbers and hair that could not be tamed, turned green.

“Uh, well, sir, Captain Knope, I...I did want to meet you first, but I also wanted Leslie to know how I felt and it seemed tactless to send a letter.”

Her father arched an eyebrow. “And how many other girls did you promise to marry?”

Ben’s eyes went wide and Leslie shot a look across the table. Robert’s lips twitched and Henry winked at her.

“Yeah Benny, what about that gal in Cornwall with the huge…” he gestured at his chest and Robert smacked him across the back of the head as Ben threatened to strangle him.

“There’s no _gal in Cornwall_ ,” he scowled. “Leslie, I promise, there’s no…”

He trailed off as the whole table started snickering.  

“You’re so easy,” Leslie pecked his cheek. There was no gal in Cornwall, only her.

That night, she snuggled up to him and tried to rub the tension out of his back.

“Where does your dad think I am?”

“With Henry,” she promised. Ann had taken the cots in the living room with Donna without complaint, giving them somewhere semi-private to catch up more. “He likes you.”

“Henry likes you,” Ben admitted. “And he doesn’t like anyone.”

Leslie giggled and pushed closer. “We’re winning, right?”

“Finally,” Ben yawned and pulled her into him. “The end of this thing can’t come soon enough.”

“They’re saying by summer.”

“I hope that’s true,” he kissed her cheek. “I might not see you until then.”

“I know,” she sighed. “But it’s okay.”

Ben yawned against her back and spooned around her.

“Ben?” she whispered, knowing he was half-asleep.

“Mhmm?”

“When we get back to the states are you going to want to live in Minnesota?”

“I’ll be wherever you want me to be, babydoll.”

Leslie smiled.

“Ben?”

“Mhmmm?”

“Do you think a woman could be president?”

He kissed her ear. “And you can be whatever you want, go to sleep.”

*****

In January of 1945 she missed her period.

She spent most of February of 1945 nauseous.

In early March, Dr. Anderson told her she was pregnant.

She almost wrote Ben to tell him, but decided against saying so in a letter. He hadn’t even officially proposed yet and here she was, carrying his child.

She lied to Sister Margaret about why she couldn’t stop throwing up and in the end got sent home with saltines and gingerale. Mrs. McCabe put two and two together after three days.

“Oh Leslie, girl, what will your father say?”

She wanted to snap that she didn’t _mean_ for this to happen yet, but she also wasn’t ashamed of it. How could she be when this tiny little bean was growing inside her - half hers and half Ben’s - and bringing her so much joy already. She rubbed her belly, she spoke to it for hours and she promised them that Daddy loved them very much and would be home soon.

“We’ll just tell everyone you eloped during the war and have a real wedding when you come home,” Marlene decided pragmatically. “But no more working on the hospital, Leslie. Lord only knows what you could catch there.”

Only her mother could so calmly and practically talk about premarital sex and a baby conceived out of wedlock.

Instead of quitting, Leslie took a job doing admin work in the hospital basement. No exposure to patients, but she still was doing her part.

In late March, Leslie was sitting behind her desk, typing notes as best she could for one of the doctors, when a man strode into the office. He was fairly tall, with rich, dark eyes and little hair. He tapped his shoe and gave her a curt nod. His arm was in a sling and he had a black eye, but his uniform was pristine.

“Begging your pardon, miss” he drawled in a crisp London accent. “I’m looking for Margot Callahan.”

A faint feeling of anticipation crept up the back of Leslie’s neck. It couldn’t be.

Leslie took the man up to the wing and never asked his name.

As it turned out, she didn’t have to. As soon as the man hit the floor there was a loud shriek and an outcry of _seeing a ghost_. And then Margot came running, flinging herself into the man’s arms and sobbing harder than she had the day she received the telegram.

The man was Jim, her husband. As it turned out, presumed dead didn’t mean really, actually dead after all. He’d been trapped in POW camp for 25 months and only just been liberated.

Two days later, Margot and Jim left London together, amidst kisses and happy tears.

Which, incidentally worked out well for their sleeping arrangements because the more pregnant Leslie the got the more aggressively she rolled around and the more Ann complained.

Before she left, Margot kissed her bump and made Leslie promise she would tell her every detail about the baby and come for a visit before she left Europe.

A month the later, the beginning of the end started.

On May 8th, everyone rushed out into the streets to celebrate the victory. Soldiers kissed sweethearts, people threw confetti and sparkling wine and in the middle of the fray Ann found Chris. He attacked her mouth and dipped her dramatically and her best friend couldn’t stop smiling long enough to seal the kiss.

Leslie stayed for a little while, cheering happily and placing a protective hand on the center of her belly as people pushed around her.

She strolled back to their flat while the celebration was still happening, desperate for a nap after waiting up all night to hear the good news. The baby stirred inside her, but never for long, and she knew from her visit with the doctor the week before they were perfectly healthy.

It felt like a boy, she didn’t know why.

In general, it was taking the sailors longer to make it back to the city, so she wasn’t expecting to see Ben for a couple of days at least. A part of her feared his ship would take him straight to New York instead of London, and then she’d have to wait weeks to be reunited… but Ben wouldn’t leave Europe without her, she was fairly certain.

The sun was shining, bathing her face in its warmth, and the world seemed bright again. Birds were chirping, flowers that had been hibernating bloomed, people kept calling to her and cheering loudly across the road. Car horns honked and she just cackled when a young man in an RAF uniform - not more than nineteen - grabbed her by the waist and planted a sloppy kiss on her face before handing her a carnation and running off.

Leslie was in a daze, barely looking where she was going. So much so, that she didn’t even notice the man sitting on the steps of her building as she moved down her block.

“Your father radioed me when we made ground,” He stood slowly and crossed the distance between them. Leslie’s heart fluttered.  He looked so good, like the weight of the world wasn’t on his shoulders anymore. Had he noticed her tiny bump? She was small, but it still was too and she hadn’t quite _popped_ the way she’d expected.

“He said to come straight to you, don’t stop for anything, and that he was going to be on the first ship back to the states because he needed to go home...” Ben’s lips twitched. “But he said Wyatt, don’t you dare leave this damn continent without my daughter, I don’t care what your CO says...”  

As he moved closer she watched his eyes widen, almost in slow motion. Her dress was fitted enough, it seemed.

“I...wha... _Leslie_.”

“I’m sorry!” she exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “I’m sorry! I didn’t want to tell you in a letter and…”

He was making the cutest, dopiest, surprised face and she couldn’t help but clamp a hand over her mouth and giggle.

“Is...it’s mine?”

He didn’t sound accusatory at all, just in disbelief. She smacked him anyway.

“Of course it’s yours, you goon! It’s ours. It’s our ba - _mmhmmm_.”

She trailed off when he kissed her hard and slow, one hand in her hair and the other on her belly. When she pulled back there were tears in his eyes and Leslie kissed his cheeks half a dozen times.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m amazing.”

“Good, because we have a _lot_ to talk about. Mostly what we’re going to tell people when we get back to Indiana. And jobs and a place to live. My mother knows some people, she’s dying to meet you, and I promised she would like you, but she _can_ be a little intimidating at first - ”

“Leslie,” he covered her lips with two of his long fingers. “I would love to talk about all of that.”

“Good.”

“But first, I really want a nap and then I want to celebrate.”

Leslie smiled and reached for his hands.

“Me too.”

“Do you think Mrs. McCabe will - ”

“She’s not in. She’s out with her son.”

Ben grinned, bending down and scooping her up. Leslie squealed, removing his hat and winding her arms around his neck.

“Welcome back, sailor boy. I missed you.”

He kissed her lips lightly.

“Me too, babydoll.”


End file.
